


Love and Monsters

by fannishliss



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  After the Dalek kills itself, the Doctor is a wreck.  Rose loves him, spirit, mind, and body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a couple of weeks to remember that there was actually an episode called "Love and Monsters" (in my head I call it "the one with Elton and LINDA" and I actually like it a lot!).  However, while I was trying to title my story the title "Love and Monsters" kept ringing in my head... There's a really well-known graphic novel series called "Love and Rockets" and I thought that was why the title was ringing so loudly.... but since my story is really about Love, and also Monsters, I stand by the title.  I hope it doesn't put anybody off. :)

**title: Love and Monsters**  
Author: fannishliss  
pairing: Nine/Rose  
rating: NC17 Mature  
spoilers:  this is my entry for the dwpronathon for the episode "Dalek"

summary:  After the Dalek kills itself, the Doctor is a wreck.  Rose loves him, spirit, mind, and body.

NOTE: It took me a couple of weeks to remember that there was actually an episode called "Love and Monsters" (in my head I call it "the one with Elton and LINDA" and I actually like it a lot!).  However, while I was trying to title my story the title "Love and Monsters" kept ringing in my head... There's a really well-known graphic novel series called "Love and Rockets" and I thought that was why the title was ringing so loudly.... but since my story is really about Love, and also Monsters, I stand by the title.  I hope it doesn't put anybody off. :)

 

Rose has known a few young soldiers who've come home to the estates, and sadly, she recognizes the look of horror on the Doctor's face: the thousand yard stare of a soldier who no longer remembers why he's fighting.  He's forgotten the world could ever again be beautiful.  He doubts if he should still be walking around in it.

The Doctor is the most amazing person Rose has ever known.  He's a living miracle, nine hundred years old -- but this battle with the Dalek has reawakened all the most terrible memories of his long life.  His long stride brings him to her side and he sweeps her into his arms. He's so strong, so powerful, and he's shivering like a leaf in the wind.

"I thought you were dead, I thought I'd killed you," he's murmuring, brokenly.  His voice is shaking, his whole body is shaking.  His grip is like iron, and his hands, usually cold, are like ice.  He buries his cold, cold face in her neck and Rose realizes she's the only thing holding him together.

"Doctor, it's all right, it's all right now -- you're okay, I've got you," she says, stroking his back.  All she feels is the thick black leather.  She gets her arms up under the coat and he's cold, too cold.  She runs her hands soothingly along his back.  She can feel his ribs, the bones of his spine.  It doesn't seem like he eats enough, Time Lord physiology or no.   

He's tall, and well-muscled, but not all that heavy; Rose is strong enough to hold him up.  His tears are leaking down her neck onto her shirt collar.  She wants to make him more comfortable.

"Sh, Doctor -- let's sit down here, okay?"

The walls and floor of the bunker are bare concrete but Rose makes do.  She leads him to the wall and they slide down together.  Rose is careful to keep him cradled in her arms. It's awful to feel him, silent and shaking, as tears spill from his eyes and trickle down his face.  She strokes his back, wiping away his tears with the sleeve of her jacket, murmuring softly to him.

He struggles to compose himself but he can't.  The tears keep falling.  

"I'm so sorry, Doctor," Rose says, and she presses a kiss to his chilled forehead.

His arms stay locked around her.  Long minutes pass, and finally his shuddering dies away.  He heaves a great sigh and sits up.  He scrubs his face with one hand, but the other stays in contact with Rose, as though touching her is the only thing calming him down.

His eyes, red-rimmed in his tear-stained, deathly pale face, are the bluest thing Rose has ever seen.  

"I'm so sorry," Rose says again.  There's so much she doesn't know about him, all the things he's had to do that he can't ever talk about, and the Dalek has dredged it all up.  It's not fair, that someone like the Doctor, so brave, so ready to jump into the fray just to try and save as many people as he can, someone so ready to be joyful in the face of all the universe throws at him -- it's so unfair that he has to suffer like this -- that he's had to make the choices that she sees gnawing at him from the inside out.

She sees the wheels turning in his head.  He's trying to think of what to say. He stares at her, and stares, and his mouth won't open.  Love for this brilliant, heroic, and guilt-laden soul has been building up inside of Rose, and now, his brow creased with pain as he grips onto her hand, her love overflows and spills out.  She's powerless to stop it.  Her hand rises to gently cup his cheek, her thumb caressing the moist skin around his eyes.  If a Time Lord can weep, a human knows enough at least to comfort.

"I love you, Doctor," she whispers.

The words hit him hard. His reaction isn't what she expected -- certainly not what she hoped.  

He stares at her for a second, his white face goes blotchy, and then he jerks back from her hand, starts to his feet and stalks away.

There's too much adrenaline still flooding her system for her to just sit there. She leaps up after him, grabs his arm, spins him around and pushes him up against the wall.

Annoyance flares in his face, but it's drowned in a heartbeat by anguish, and she doesn't know where all this is coming from. She can't let him run now.  If they go back to the Tardis like this he'll just hide, and then when she finally sees him after a day, or two days, he'll pretend nothing happened, and throw up that blank wall, and she can't let that happen, not now that she's held him in her arms and felt all the pain he can't let go of.

He gives a half hearted push at her, but  she slots herself between his legs and traps him there by force of will.  She knows he's stronger than her twice or three times over; he could easily break away, but she digs her hands under his jacket, gripping his chilly sides and keeping as firm a hold on him as she can.  
   
"I almost lost you, Rose," he chokes.  

"I'm right here," she says. She turns her head, presses her cheek against his chest.  His hearts are pounding so hard.

"When I pressed that button, you were dead.  You should hate me," he says.

"Never!" she affirms, and wraps her arms tighter around his body.   

She feels him shaking his head no.  "I killed them all -- the Daleks, my own people -- I had to end it, me -- Destroyer of Worlds!" he chokes.

"No," she whispers, stroking his skin, holding him in her arms with all her might, trying to press her compassion and love into his body through touch alone.

"I'm a monster, Rose -- no better than that Dalek." The loathing in the Doctor's voice is horrible, more than she can bear.  Tears are trickling down her face now too, but she's strong enough, if she has to, she can bear it for them both.

"The Dalek was a monster -- but it changed," Rose says.  Rose knows it was a monster -- it killed all those people, it wanted to kill her and everybody else it could get in its sights.  It might've killed every last person on the planet if it had gotten the chance.  The Doctor's terror and rage at it were justified.  But somehow, the Dalek had changed, for the better.  It had overcome its driving urge to destroy by sacrificing itself before it could kill any more.

"You changed it," the Doctor says, his voice relaxing, just a little.

"I thought we could help it. But, if I hadn't touched it, all those people would still be alive," Rose whispers with a shudder.  

"I've killed millions, Rose. Untold millions.  The War-- it was tearing apart the fabric of the universe.  It had to stop."

"And only you could stop it?" she asks.  

He nods.  

"I can't imagine," she says, still trying to soothe and comfort him with her touch, "having to be so strong…. so brave."  

The Doctor shudders, a painful laugh tearing out of him.  "If that was bravery, I'll choose cowardice from now on."

"You did what you had to do," Rose says.

He doesn't answer for the longest time.  Finally he whispers, "When I sleep, it plays out in my dreams-- missed opportunities, things I could've done differently, strategies, arguments -- it drives me mad!"

"It was what you had to do," Rose repeats.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.  

"Because you're the Doctor," she insists, and looking up she meets his eyes.  "I know you, and I love you," she says, lifting her face, offering herself for him to kiss.  

For a moment she's not sure if he'll go for it.  But after a short hesitation, he lowers his lips delicately to hers, icy still, and she catches at them with her own, caressing and breathing with him, trying to pour all the admiration and compassion she feels for him into this kiss.  It might be the only chance she'll ever get.

Rose has to breathe at last and reluctantly pulls away.  The Doctor looks a little stunned.  

"I'm alive," she says, "and so are you -- and I'm glad."

He stares down at her and in that moment he is unfathomable.  There's something truly awful in his unshuttered gaze, a reflection of the agony of his burden. Somehow, it makes him all the more beautiful to Rose.  It makes her wonder about herself.  

"Am I a monster too, then," she whispers, "that I can know what you had to do, and still love you so much?"

His sorrow and pain condense into a frown.  He stares down at her in concern.   She stares back.  

"I don't like thinking I've sullied you," he says.

A harsh laugh barks out of Rose. "I'm not the driven snow," she says, eyebrows high.

His frown contracts further, and Rose laughs again, softer, leaning up on tiptoe.  "If you could read my thoughts…" she whispers in his ear.

"I thought you didn't like that idea," he says.

"What, you mean you could?" she asks, intrigued.  She trusts him now; she has no more reason to be afraid.

"Course," he says, "touch telepath."

"So," Rose says, a wonderful idea blossoming in her mind, "you just touch me, like, and read my thoughts?"

"Yeah," he says.  "But it's not reading.  It's more like mingling.  I'm strong enough, I could go all the way into your mind, but I wouldn't, unless you agreed."    
   
"I agree," Rose says.

"What?" he says.

"I want you to come inside my mind," Rose says.  

The Doctor blushes, and actually flutters his eyelashes at her.  "You sure?" he says.

"Yes!" she says.

"Right now?" he asks.

"There some reason we shouldn't?" she asks.

He looks taken aback, and while he pauses, Rose answers for him.

"You're all tied up in your own head," Rose tells him.  "No one in there but you.  Come inside my head and find out what I really think of you."

"Can't be flattering," he grumbles.  

"I have an honest opinion of you that I'd like to share," Rose states archly.  

The Doctor lifts his hand to her face and holds it poised.  "Really?"

"Yeah."  She closes her eyes serenely and feels his cool fingers, a little warmer now than before, lightly brush her temples. Almost at once, the heat of his presence warms her mind.  

"Ooh!" she exclaims.  "Is that you?" She smiles broadly, eyes still closed.  

The red and gold cloud hovering hot at the border of her consciousness, indicates that it is the Doctor.  

"Come in!" she exclaims, throwing open the doors of her mind.

He trickles in, slowly at first, but with gathering density.

He's amazing, like a storm, so grand and powerful.  And she can hear him, or somehow, feel him….  the towering emotions, the rapid calculations of his genius intellect, and around it all -- how much he loves and needs her.   Rose basks in the warmth she feels expanding inside her, luxuriating in the comfort he's taking.

"Feel, Doctor… just feel."

And then he's kissing her -- so much more warmly, so much more deeply than before, now that he's moved inside her mind.

He pulls back to let her breathe again, sticks his nose behind her ear, and draws her scent inside him.  Rose can feel it, the freshness he is taking into himself, her youth inside his ancientness.

He murmurs into her ear, and she hears the resonances of his meaning echoing through their joined psyches.  "When I heard your voice, when you weren't dead, I swore to myself, if I survived this, that I wouldn't be afraid.  But I am.  I want you, Rose, so much it terrifies me."

"Why?" she says.  She feels so wonderful, now she has him in her embrace, she's having trouble remembering that they'd even been upset.

"If you still have to ask, you really don't get what I'm capable of. To have you, Rose, and then to lose you? I don't know what I'd do."

"Don't lose me then," she says.

"You're human," he says, "and I'm a Time Lord. I've already outlasted a dozen human lifetimes."

"You have to live fully, if you haven't got much time," Rose says.  She's always known that. Her dad died young, and her mum let her own life drift.   Rose always swore she'd never waste a moment. "Be with me, Doctor-- don't hold back!" she implores.  

"I want to," he says, plaintive.

"You want me," she says, for confirmation.

He blushes again, the red blotching his pale cheeks even more, but at least he's warming up a little.  "Yes," he says plainly.

Rose doesn't need any more.  She'll won't wait, not another moment.  Who knows what's waiting just around these corners? Van Statten might have some horrid backup plan.  Today is the moment and now is the time.  

"Sonic those cameras, would you, Doctor?" she orders, and he complies.  As soon as he gives the all clear, she's onto him.  She pushes his jacket open and rucks up his jumper.

"Time Lords have nipples then," she says with approval, and latches on.

He makes a groaning noise and grabs her head in both hands, pressing her to him as she pokes and teases the sweet little nub with her tongue.  He tastes like honey.  She bites and pulls off at his groan, switching to the other side, pinching him lightly as he pants and jerks under her hands and mouth. "That works for you," she says.

"Mmm," he moans, stroking her hair.  

She leaves off pinching and reaches up, running her fingers through the short hair on the back of his head, carding into his scalp and tracing behind the shell of his ear.  He's so tall, but she reaches up and suckles on an earlobe, and he melts against the wall as his ears go from icy to burning red.

She frames his face with her hands and stares into his eyes, lifting the fingers of one hand again to his temple. The connection between them, that had gone a bit muffled, clears and brightens.  She works at his belt and the fly of his jeans with her other hand.

"Is this okay?" she asks him.  

"Yes, Rose!" he answers.  

She lifts both his hands and presses them to her temples, and sinks down to her knees.  

"Don't be shocked," he says.

She is a little shocked.  He doesn't have the equipment she's expecting.  But she leans in anyway, kissing and tasting him.  He tastes divine -- all honey and sharp like citrus.  

"Does this feel good?"  she thinks at him through the connection, and his response is nearly incoherent.  

"Yes -- so good -- never had -- Rose, Rose!"  His mental voice goes vocal as he begins to keen and his hips thrust toward her.  

"I need to get inside you," he gasps out loud.

"Thought you'd never ask!" Rose retorts and whirls him around, leaning herself back against the wall.  

She opens her jeans and takes one of his hand, thrusts it in with her own. "So ready for you, Doctor -- feel!"

"Rose," he says, as his fingers learn their way, down and in, gathering her moisture, bringing it up and spreading it around. She's embarrassingly slick for him, hot and ready.  She wants him so much.

"So amazing, Rose," he moans, and she realizes with a start that her sex is making love to his fingers.

"You can feel --how good it is -- can't you, Doctor?" she gasps, bucking against his hand.

"Yes, yes, Rose -- you're so alive there -- so good!"

She wants to memorize the moment forever, capture the look of concentration on his face as his fingers work their way in between her legs, stroking her, light and slow, but deep, making her thrust forward against him despite herself.  Every pump of her hips brings her closer. She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, delving her tongue into his mouth as his fingers thrust into her, slick and warm with the heat they've stolen from her.  

"Doctor -- inside me--" she begs, gasping.  She's so close, she wants to lose it with him inside her, where she can push back and take him in so deep he'll never get free.

"Turn around, hands on the wall," he says, his voice tight and rough.

She shoves her trousers down around her ankles, rises up on her toes, and pushes her backside out to him, bracing herself on her arms.   

The Doctor pushes down his jeans and presses up against her.  For a second, she doesn't feel anything -- then she feels the strangest sensation, as his sexual organ enters her.  It's not weird, just different -- it grows and pulses, thickening and stiffening inside her, filling her, expanding -- and then he starts to move, nothing like anything she's ever felt.  She pushes back against him, gasping for breath as the ecstasy fills her and pours up her spine like a flood of golden fire.  She's never, ever felt anything like it -- like heat, electricity, overload -- she wants it, more and more of it, and he's still swelling inside her, moving and stroking her everywhere. Almost like an afterthought his clever fingers continue to feather across her clit, causing her to jerk forward and backward in a frenzy between his hand and his hips, until she simply can't take it anymore. With a hoarse cry she pushes all the way back into him and locks into place, as open to him as she can hold herself.

He lays himself down across her spine, rippling into her with graceful, dancing motions of his hips, and his fingers on her temples pour his ecstasy into hers.  They soar and rise together, the physical bliss of the joining a ground for the lightning that sears through their minds as their psyches brush and link.  Rose feels her body convulse -- it's too much, but the Doctor keeps giving her more, and somehow she takes it, until, with a scream, she whites out.

A few moments must pass.  The Doctor has withdrawn from her body and straightened her clothing around her.  She feels incredible -- not an ache or a pain anywhere -- all the little hurts of the day's adventures gone as though they'd never been. Inside her there is a remnant of bliss overlying a deep and profound calm, like the glittering beads of sunlight that dance across the ripples of a lake at sunset.  

He's gazing at her as though she is a miracle.  She's sure she's returning the look in kind.  He bends forward and gently kisses her, stroking the side of her face.  

"Hey," she says, with a smile.

The most beautiful grin breaks across his face.  He doesn't look a day over seven hundred and forty.

"Hiya," he answers.  

"Let's do this again, in a proper bed," Rose suggests.

Her eyes widen as she feels a rumble of agreement in her mind.

"Are you -- in -- my head?" she asks in surprise.

His eyes go big and round with concern. "Is that okay?" he says, "I can probably tone it down, so we barely feel it."

"What?" she says.  "I'm in your head too?"  

She closes her eyes.  All around her, she senses more-- the structures of things -- the stories of things -- hints of things past and things to come -- but it's only shadows, tints and colors -- nothing overwhelming.  It's the echo of his mind moving under hers.

"Brilliant!" she exclaims, clapping her hands and laughing in delight.

He laughs too, and hugs the living daylights out of her.  Their hug feels deep, and warm, and safe, and real, and wonderful. It hasn't changed a bit.  



End file.
